


The Things You Said

by MaethorialBelle



Series: A Bond Of Broken Chains [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, I'll update tags as I post chapters, probable spoilers for Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaethorialBelle/pseuds/MaethorialBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of drabbles, involving Cullen and Maerwynne's relationship, that fill various versions of the prompt: The things you said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Things You Said At 1am

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, commenting or giving me Kudos. I hope you enjoy! :)

“Alright, your turn” Cullen prompted Maerwynne gently as a lengthy silence followed her yawn.

She hummed lazily, her fingers idly scratching at the stubble adorning his jaw. “Let’s see, how about- your middle name?”

“You know my middle name” Cullen reminded her, eyes ghosting over their entwined bodies that the moon blessed with its ethereal glow; admiring the way the lunar light kissed her curves.

“Oh yes,” Maerwynne recalled as she yawned again, “Cullen _Stanton_ Rutherford;” she giggled quietly, still giddy from their exertions, even as her eyes grew heavier blink by languid blink.

The pillow shifted under them as Cullen turned his head from her. “Stanton was my father’s name” he murmured on a cracking voice, draw brows framing saddened eyes.

“Oh, Cullen” she crooned, shifting to lean on an elbow, her other hand turning him back to her. “It’s- it’s a nice name. I wasn’t- I didn’t- um.” His nasal snicker echoed through the basic bedroom. “Cullen!” she admonished, her marked hand swatting lightly at his bare bicep.

He captured her hand upon its retreat, “the look on your face” he grinned as he pressed a kiss to her wrist. Maerwynne cast a petulant pout at him, her eyes narrowed in feigned fury as she settled down once more at his urging, her head upon his chest. “Stanton was my father’s name, or his middle one at least” Cullen amended. “It’s a name given to all first born Rutherford boys, or so I was told.”

Maerwynne’s eyes drifted to a close as Cullen’s heart beat lulled her further into the fade. “Does that mean we’ll have to give it to our son?” Her eyes snapped opened as her own mouth betrayed her, stealing the words that haunted her heart to spill them forth into the crisp night air.

“Maya” Cullen breathed as she looked to him, eyes wide with unspoken regrets; his fingers enfolding with hers as his gaze softened. “You don’t-”

She swallowed his reply as she captured a kiss, rough and needy, as his hands dusted lightly along her back. “Don’t” she hushed on a begging breath as she dragged her body along his; “please, don’t.” If he was about to confess that a future full of their children, a home of their own and a cat or ten wasn’t something that he desired, then her heart break could wait for another night. If he was about to admit, however, that she’d painted the same picture of their future as he, then it could wait until after Corypheus had the chance to snatch it all away from them.


	2. The Things You Said With No Space Bewteen Us.

“Cullen” Maerwynne cooed, her face mere inches from his as he lay beneath her, pinned to the floor by Maerwynne’s thighs. "Are you just going to lie there?" She smirked, loose curls falling from their binding to tickle at his face as she leant over him.

He lifted his hands to her hips, smirking back as he replied with a chuckle, “That depends, are you just going to sit there?”

She leaned in closer so their noses brushed, breaths mingling as she whispered, "I can think of worse ways to spend the day."

"Enough” came a disgruntled voice from their side. "If you two are going to get, _romantic_ , then I'm leaving."

“Yeah” Bull concurred , a humorous glint in his eyes. "The seeker could have spent the afternoon reading if she wanted to see this crap."

The seeker in question rounded on him. “Careful Qunari” Cassandra warned, "you'll remember I'm the one you’re duelling next."

"Go easy on him Cass," Maerwynne uttered with a grunt as she hauled herself off the commander. “After all, he’s not wrong."

Cassandra scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "nobody asked you” she scowled as she turned to once again assault a practice dummy.

Maerwynne turned around with a cackle, a hand poised to help Cullen off the floor, only to find him standing there; her daggers in hand.

"You've certainly improved with these," he said with an approving nod of his head as he handed her the weapons. "Perhaps you're ready to try them in the field after all."

Maerwynne’s grin grew at Cullen’s admission. "You really think so?" She chirped, pitch rising in her elation.

He scoffed , though not unkindly. "I didn't _let_ you take me to the ground, despite what you may think. And Besides," his voice softened slightly, "if I thought it may harm your chances of coming back to me, I’d throw those things off the battlements."

Maerwynne laughed at that, loud and bright. "No, you wouldn't,” she protested with a shake of her head, “because I'd throw you right after them."

“No, I wouldn't” Cullen agreed with a short lived grin, his hand seemingly wanting to reach out to her, its longing denied by their company. “Though the point stands.You're ready to use them, if thats what you wish."

"Maybe" she drawled as she kicked a foot at the grass, "doesn't really feel right though. I trained so hard with my bow and for so long, plus now I’m an artificer. I don’t know, perhaps now's not the time to try anything new."

Cullen smiled at her warmly, his eyes wrinkling in the way she loved. "Now may be the only time to try something new.” He stepped closer to her then, his words for her ears only, “I may have a few things of my own I’d like to try."

“Ugh” came a grunt that murdered Maerwynnes reply, a smile plumping her cheeks as Cassandra marched past them. “I warned you” the seeker grumbled over her shoulder.

“Twenty silver’s she’s going for some alone time with her books,” Bull bellowed, his laugh just as loud, though his company didn’t seem to enjoy his humour quite as much.

“And with that, I’m leaving” Maerwynne scoffed throatily, sheathing her dual bladed daggers as she did so.

“You and me both” Cullen added as he reclaimed his disregarded sword from the dying grass.

“Hey,” Bull whined, “if you two want some alone time of your own you just have to say.”

Maerwynne grinned as she grabbed the commander by the wrist. “We just did” she informed the smirking Qunari, before marching them straight to his chambers for round two.


	3. The Things You Said As I Was Crying.

She read the letter over and over, searching for the punchline, the words blurring together as her hot tears blotted the script.

_If you do not return home to us, I’ll know that forgiveness does not lie in your heart._

“How dare you!” she snarled viciously, the words husky as they ripped from her throat. “How dare you, how dare you, how-”Cullen’s sure grip on her shoulder turned her cries into a wrecked sob. Maerwynne turned to him with a wrinkled brow and a trembling lip, “they lied to me,” she quivered. “They took her away and they lied to me for all this time.”

“Who did?” Cullen asked urgently, his concern spiralling at her distress.

Maerwynne stared at the letter again, her grip wrinkling the parchment as her fingers held tighter. Then she shoved it at him, her gaze falling to the floor as he studied it.

“ _Maker_ ” Cullen sighed finally, stunned to stillness by all he’d read. “A sister?” he breathed, soft and unbelieving, “I can’t begin to imagine- Maerwynne, I’m- sorry doesn’t seem adequate.”

“They hid her away in the tower because she had magic,” Maerwynne whimpered as she snatched the parchment back. “Then they thought to hide me in the chantry so I didn’t pass it on, like it’s some _disease_ ,” she spat, anger twisting to sadness and back again, over and over. “They didn’t want me souring the line; didn’t want me marrying, having children in case-,” she hid her grimace in her hands. “And now she’s dead and I- I don’t know what to do” she confessed on a ragged breath.

Cullen pulled her closer, his hand cradling the back of her head as she cried, clinging to his chest. “You do what you must. There’s no amount of time assigned to grief, and grief is something I know well. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

She lifted her head to frown at him, her once bright, hazel-green eyes reddened and swollen as they roamed his face sceptically. “You’ll stay?” she whispered, incredulous, before a hiccup racked her chest.

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked hesitantly, his hands momentarily slowing where they smoothed her hair.

Her sigh was guttural; every broken sob pained his heart a little more. “If my- sister is, was, a mage then it runs in my blood. That- doesn’t concern you?” She queried as her frown melted in a hopeful lift of her brows.

“Maya” he drawled, sad and tender, “you’ve enough to concern yourself with without worrying about that; it doesn’t matter right now.”

“It matters Cullen!” She cried, the sudden volume making him flinch, “it matters to me.” Maerwynne hung her head instantly, “I’m sorry” she whispered, though in that moment Cullen wasn’t sure just whom she was apologising to. “Thank you for being here,” she croaked, exhaustion obvious in her wilting shoulders.

 _You’ve yet to turn away from me_ he wanted to say, yet didn’t want to insinuate that he was only there to repay a favour. “Always” he said instead as he took her hand, “you should try and get some rest.”

Cullen thanked the maker as she followed him eagerly to her oversized bed without argument. He held her in his arms, his hands gentle and soothing as they caressed her back. He held her until shuddering breaths slowed and softened as her dreams captured her; Cullen prayed harder than he had in a long time that they, at least, would deliver something pleasant.


	4. The Things You Said That I Wasn't Meant To Hear.

Maerwynne bounded across the ramparts and towards Cullen’s office. Bored, listless days were all too common at Skyhold now that Corypheus had been beaten; most of Maerwynne’s days now began and concluded with piles of parchment and pleas from petitioners. She would never admit that meeting Cullen for dinner had become the highlight of her days, but that didn’t make it any less true. As she approached his office, hand outstretched and ready to knock, Maerwynne heard voices rumbling from within.

“A ring you say?” She heard Cullen question, his voice muffled by the fastened door.

“All the rage apparently. Quite the trend in Orlais I’m told; after political assassinations and drunken soirees.” Dorian’s particular brand of wit was unmistakable to her ears.

A beat of silence passed, a beat too long as far as Maerwynne’s hammering heart was concerned. “Well,” Cullen finally snapped, “what kind?”

Dorian barked a laugh, “You’re asking me? If you don't know her well enough to decide on that, then perhaps this isn't the best idea after all.”

“ _Makers breath_ ” Maerwynne mouthed to herself, the butterflies that fluttered in her belly untameable. _Don’t jump to conclusions_ she scolded herself with a shake of her head, _they could be speaking about anything._

Cullen’s sigh shattered Maerwynne’s musings; she could tell his hand rubbed at his neck as he mumbled, “It has to be perfect.”

“And it will be, when _you_ choose, the one _you_ think she'll adore.” Dorian’s voice was soft, as was Maerwynne’s heart at his tone; she knew precious few people got to hear him like that and considered herself honoured to be one of them. Knowing Cullen was another, however, was a privilege all of its own; though now their conversation seemed far too intimate for her to be intruding upon. Maerwynne scarpered away from the door as the light from underneath grew shadowed by Dorian’s approach. “Now,” he said, “that’s quite enough sentimentality for one night. If it's all the same to you, I’m headed to the tavern; there’s a watered down bottle of piss with my name written all over it.” Dorian whipped the door open harshly, stopping short as he noticed who stood on the other side. “Ah, there you are!” he exclaimed as his brows, and his moustache, twitched in surprise.

“You were looking for me?” Maerwynne asked, her fingers crossed tightly behind her back in a silent prayer that he would pertain the quiver in her voice to the chill of the imminent dusk.

“Not I, no” the mage replied with a shake of his head before he nodded it in Cullen’s direction. “Our commander always looks like that when he's missing you; it'd be charming, if it wasn't so nauseating” Dorian smirked with a squeeze of her hand as he walked by.

Maerwynne steadied herself with a harsh breath as she lingered in the doorway, trying desperately to swat away her far-fetched fantasies of an impending happily-ever-after.

“I had hoped you’d stop by,” Cullen confessed, his words luring her into the room.

Maerwynne threw on a smile, the one just for him. “I always do” she chirped as she closed the door behind her, “is there something on your mind?”

Cullen rounded his desk with a scratch of his head. “Yes. I mean no, I – maker.” His hand fell to join its pair at his side, “there’s something I wanted to-”

“Yes!” Maerwynne barked, instant regret widening her eyes. “Ye-yes, I… just remembered there’s…some left over cherry pie for dessert,” she coughed into her fist, “carry on.”

Cullen let out a faint sigh, one that failed to hide his chuckle. “- _To ask you”_ he finished as he walked to her, his gloved hand gentle as it captured hers. “Will you aid me in choosing a gift for my sister? You seem to have similar tastes.”

Maerwynne smiled over the pang of disappointment, though her grin was born more from embarrassment that any real humour. “It’s her birthday?” She asked too brightly in an attempt to distract from the warmth in her cheeks, though she was grateful that at least her blushing never resulted in redness.

Cullen nodded once sharply, either not noticing or ignoring her odd behaviour. “I was thinking about getting her jewellery, a ring to be exact. Dorian tells me they’ve become quite fashionable,” he huffed a tender laugh, “and Rosalie has always been attracted to shiny objects.”

“That a good idea” Maerwynne praised him with a squeeze of his hand, “we should head to Val Royeaux; we can leave when you’d like.” She smiled again, though this time it reached her eyes, “perhaps I can even convince you to join me for a fancy Orlesian dinner while we’re there.”

Cullen’s answering smirk was dangerous, to her and her "good Andrastian morals" anyway. “Perhaps you _might_ convince me” he murmured, his voice low, his breath caressing her lips. The moment was over quickly however, too quickly, as Cullen stepped back whilst letting go of her hand, “thank you Maya.”

“I’m happy to help” she declared cheerfully as she made for the door, turning with a beckoning hand as she noticed he wasn’t following. “Shall we?”

“Not yet” Cullen said with a dismissive wave, not missing the slight frown that threatened her brow. “There’s a letter I must sign, and besides,” he grinned, “I wouldn’t want a fight over the last of the cherry pie. I’ll meet you there?”

She smiled at him with a humoured shake of her head, “Don’t be too long; I can’t keep Sera from picking at your meal forever.”

Cullen sat back on his desk with a huff as the door clicked shut, his snorting laughter filling the room once he was certain Maerwynne wasn’t lingering; it wasn’t everyday one got to outwit a rogue after all, Cullen smiled to himself. Oh, he felt guilty for fooling her, though he felt even guiltier for liking it. In any rate, Cullen was certain she’d forgive him once he was on bended knee, ring in hand, a proposal on his lips. Well, he was mostly certain anyway.


	5. The Things You Said That Made Me Feel Like Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW, mentions of nudity and withdrawal symptoms.

The quill quivered in Cullen’s hand, his signature on the reports a scrawled script, barely legible. With a resigned sigh he placed the quill back in its pot; this was the third report he’d have to redo when morning came, and hopefully along with it a clearer head and steady grip. His stomach growled out its desire to be filled, despite the hearty meal he’d devoured not two hours ago at Maerwynne’s insistence. Cullen’s legs seemed to grow limp at the very thought of trudging to the kitchen, so he decided instead with slumping shoulders to face the imminent battle that waited for him in sleep.

Cullen climbed the ladder to his loft with shaking hands, heavy and unhurried as he lifted them rung to torturous rung. He felt frustration flare within him at the time it took for him to reach the top, a hefty grunt escaping him as he eased himself to his feet. His eye’s then fell on Maerwynne who sat kneeling on his bed, his red sheet loosely held to her chest as it cascaded over the rest of her like a crimson waterfall; only a thigh left exposed, to tease he was certain. Cullen watched as she sucked in a silent breath before scooting off the bed, her raven waves jostling loosely about her shoulders as she stood. Maerwynne stopped before him, still too far to touch, then she dropped the sheet to her feet with an impish grin. She stood bared before him, both skin and soul, naked and vulnerable for him to lavish with careful caresses and whispered worship.

The moonlight cast a sheet of white light across her flaunted flesh, revealing the secrets the shadows had tried to hide; like the way the night air prickled her skin and the shiver that shook her shoulders slightly as she stepped ever closer, beckoned by his silence. “Surprise” she smiled, her voice so soft and unsure.

Cullen’s hand lifted to his neck as his gaze draped over her form, his eyes resting by her feet that fidgeted nervously. “I didn’t hear you enter” he said, missing the way her brow fell briefly.

Maerwynne walked closer to him until their chests collided. “Would you be shocked if I told you I came in through the roof?” She chuckled at her question, her laughter laced with doubt; perhaps also a plea for him to put his hands on her, to kiss her, make love to her there on the floor, anything but stand there unmoving.

Cullen’s chortle was forced and fleeting. “Not for a second” he smirked, looking to her green eyes once more, “though usually I see you through the floorboards.” He watched as her hand came to cup his cheek, his gut twisting as she closed in for a kiss. “Perhaps you should get dressed” he murmured, her muted gasp not quiet enough to pass unnoticed between them.

Cullen’s brow fell heavily as she recoiled from him, her arms shifting, not quite sure which part of herself she wished to cover more. Maerwynne’s voice cracked as she nodded an “alright”, before fleeing quickly to reclaim her clothing that lay in a scattered trail between the ladder and the bed. She dressed in silence, her haste tangling her top and twisting her bottoms as she tugged them on swiftly in the hopes of a rapid retreat. “I'll see you in the morning then” she said, her voice jolting as she slipped on her last boot.

“Don’t go,” it was a ragged whisper, a heartfelt plea, one Cullen was sure she would ignore, one he wouldn’t blame her for ignoring.

To his surprise, and relief, she turned to him. “Maker but I feel like a fool” she confessed, her frown slowly unfurling with a shake of her head. “I wanted to be with you Cullen, we didn’t have to _do_ anything. I just-”

“Forgive me” Cullen interrupted her, his tone imploring, his hands seizing her hips as she stepped into his waiting arms. “I’m not certain I could-uh. That is, if I could-”

Her gentle sigh carried his name; a gentler hand capturing his curls to twist them around her fingers. Maerwynne freed herself from his embrace to help rid him of his clothes; she knew he felt the cold, but recognised his clammy skin bothered him more. “I need to learn that I can’t keep doing this” she grumbled as she led him to the bed, his palm in hers making it slick. “We’re not-I can’t,” another sigh, this one harsh and hasty. “Do you remember the first time we laid together? I told you I didn’t know what I was doing,” Maerwynne laughed lightly, though it lacked humour, her breath warm between them as they entwined themselves atop the mattress. “I meant it, I feel like such a child sometimes and on days like this, I just feel… clueless.” She pulled his head to rest upon hers, “tell me what you need Cullen, tell me what I can do.”

Cullen could feel himself trembling as he held her, could feel his sweat stick to her and snarled at the thought of it clinging to her skin, to her clothes, to her memory of him. “Just be with me,” he mumbled eventually as he tugged her closer, “if you want to be that is. I won’t blame you if-”

Maerwynne cut him off with a kiss. “Cullen,” she soothed, “I’m with you. I’ll always be with you.” She stole another kiss, still chaste but no less loving. “We’ll get there, ” she assured him finally as she nuzzled tighter into him.

“Right” Cullen chuckled breathily before a litany of _I love you’s_ fell from Maerwynne’s lips; it remained his favourite lullaby that she used to lull him to sleep, no matter how briefly sleep kept him. Even entangled in her arms he awoke several times that night. Things weren’t perfect, Cullen mused as his hand stroked lazily up her back, she didn’t provide a miracle cure; but it was a damned sight better than facing his demons alone.


	6. The Things You Said When You Were Crying

Cullen’s stomach was sunken with concern. Maerwynne had said, had _promised_ , she’d come and see him after her visit to Adan; yet here he was, summoned to her chambers by her broken vow. She’d been ill for some time now, yet as much as she tried to fight against the constant queasiness and endless fatigue her body wasn’t righting itself. So Cullen had begged, had pleaded and prayed, for her to seek out the cause of her troubles after too many weeks of misery.

Cullen made his way up her stairs steadily, an announcement of his presence echoing about the stone as he ascended. He heard Maerwynne shuffling, heard a mumbled _something_ that resembled a curse; except she didn’t curse, not ordinarily. Cullen halted with a jolt as he reached the top, his brow quirking at Maerwynne who stood waiting with a toothy grin, her dimples deep where they dented her cheeks. “Cullen” she chirped cheerily, too cheerily. “Is something the matter?”

The commander’s head jerked back in his bafflement. “You didn’t come to see me, I had wondered if everything was alright.” Cullen stepped closer to her, his eyes narrowing and tone accusing as he asked, “You did visit Adan?”

“Ah,” Maerwynne’s palm pressed against her forehead as her eyes blinked shut, “I completely forgot about that didn’t I?” She began fiddling with a loosened button that hung off the bottom of her blouse, which apparently was far more interesting than his presence. “I forgot about coming to see _you_ , that is.”

Her following silence was a torture so foul it furrowed Cullen’s brow further, he’d finally found a torment he couldn’t withstand. “So?” He prompted eventually; acutely aware that his apprehension could be mistaken for agitation.

Maerwynne shook her head with a shrug of her shoulders, “he said it's probably best that I don't go on any adventures; not for a while at least.”

Cullen’s heavy exhale left him loose and limp. “Maker's breath,” he sighed, “he must have said why?"

Maerwynne turned to the mountains that pried on them from beyond her bedroom doors. “He did” she said with a nod.

Cullen marched to her; a war of worry waged within him and weighted his steps. “Have mercy Maerwynne,” he begged as he turned her towards him by her captured shoulders, “what did he say?”

Maerwynne’s sigh heaved her shoulders underneath his palms. “He said that-,” her words were hushed, hesitant yet hopeful; “he said that I’m going to be a mother.” Cullen’s frown didn’t unfurl, Maerwynne assured herself that he mustn’t have understood the implication of what she’d said. “That means you’re going to be a father” she drawled, her heart heavy as she waited for him to blink or take a breath. “We’re having a baby Cullen.”

Her own grimace grew as Cullen stooped his head to the floor, a generous gulp bobbing in his throat. “We should-,” he cleared his throat roughly, once and then again, his voice hoarse when spoke next. “We should assign more guards to the gate. We’ll have to consider barricading the staircases as well, but we should have some time before that becomes an issue. We’ll also need to keep Sera away, for my own peace of mind if nothing else and-”

Maerwynne’s smile, her careful caress of his face, caused his words to catch on his tongue. “Cullen” she crooned, her thumbs sweeping across his cheeks to catch the tears that trickled there like warm rain on a window. “Only you would make a baby-based contingency plan your priority after finding out you’re going to be a father.” Her chuckle rumbled against him as he pulled her closer, with a new found caution she noted, his own lips falling into a grin even as his hot tears salted his tongue. “So you’re happy?” She asked, hating that her doubt still managed to scald her, her uncertainty set ablaze by even the slightest of sparks.

Cullen’s smile didn’t falter at her question, his eyes still bright and beaming. “Of course I am,” he said on a whispered breath. “I never dared to imagine-” his sigh was laced with a chuckle, it sounded almost disbelieving. “Are you?”

Maerwynne’s gaze drifted somewhere over his shoulder, “I won't lie; this isn't how I’d wanted it.” Her admission was quiet, she sounded almost ashamed; it reminded Cullen of his first confession when he’d admitted to kissing Anabelle Lotte, but only on the cheek. “I wanted us to be married, I wanted to have a house in the woods and a couple of cats; perhaps even a dog to honour your Ferelden blood” she joked, her impish giggle a sound that never failed to make Cullen’s belly grow warm. Maerwynne shook her head, a raven curl freeing itself to bob by her temple, “but that's not how it's happened, and I wouldn't have it any other way.” Her grin melted into something smaller, something far more intimate as her hands caressed her belly. “I love them so much already Cullen, I think this is how it was always meant to be.”

Cullen’s fingers merged with hers to smooth small circles across her middle, he was sure he imagined the slight curvature there; his joke about too many dessert rolls dying an unspoken death on his lips. “It’s perfect” he agreed, “now we just need to tell the other’s about Emily.”

“ _Emily_?” Maerwynne exclaimed, her brows rising so far Cullen thought they might disappear into her hairline.

“Or Henry, of course,” he amended, “if they’re a boy.”

Maerwynne’s chuckle was humourless as her finger came up to wag in his face. “You pick a name and I’ll pick a name, then we’ll decide which order they go in. Though the names have to fit with Trevelyan of course.”

Cullen balked at that. “That’s a discussion for another time” he grumbled as he pulled Maerwynne into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck to press a lasting kiss there. There was a time when Cullen would fret over life going smoothly; silence to him was always the swing of a sword before the blow landed and heads started to roll. Right now his life seemed so bright it almost blinded him, though Cullen didn’t doubt darkness would eventually come with its hands outstretched, ready to take all he possessed. Still, whatever erupted when the dusk inevitably came for him, he had right now; he had his stars to light the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh how I tried to resist doing the baby thing for this one. But the Qun demanded it.


	7. The Things You Said Under The Stars And In The Grass

A night filled with plentiful rest had eluded Cullen and Maerwynne both. Not long after the sun had bowed to the reigning moon they had lost themselves underneath his woven sheets and in each other’s arms. While they hadn’t retired to his loft to sleep, not a first, eventually their mingled gasps and pleasured cries ebbed away into steady breaths as they laid in stillness together, hand in hand, willing each other into a peaceful slumber with gentle brushes of their thumbs. It hadn’t worked; not in the first hour nor in the fifth. Finally, when the thought of another hour spent counting nugs had become too much to bear, Maerwynne had suggested they walk the ramparts, organise a well- past-midnight feast on the roof, anything other than lie there restless, hoping to delay the looming dawn with nothing but a wish and a prayer. Cullen had suggested, half-jokingly at first, that they seize the chance to spar in isolation; Maerwynne’s shyness in showing off her newfound skill with blades prompting his proposal.

She had agreed with an eager smile, much to Cullen’s surprise, and had promptly proceeded to kick the sheets from her naked skin, shoulders shivering as the cold caressed her body. She’d posed a wager as she hunted for her scattered clothing: _last one to the courtyard is a rotten egg_. It was foolish, Cullen had thought, foolish and juvenile. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from tugging her off the ground and into his arms, mindful of the way he held her even as he dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed, laughing at her cries of _“_ cheater” as he hunted for his own discarded garments. They had rushed to dress as though Skyhold were falling around them, with sleeves and smalls twisting inside out and Maerwynne’s giddy giggles not helping her haste as she hopped about in an attempt to slip on a second sock.

 

That had been ten minutes ago, before Maerwynne had attempted to distract the commander with kisses, only to fall into her own trap as his hands began to wander. But now the game was on once more, evidenced by the way the door to Cullen’s office burst open with wild abandon, alarming a guard who shook himself to attention as their dashing disrupted his nap. Cullen scoffed as Maerwynne launched herself over the lower wall of the final staircase, his own grumbles of “playing foul” and “cheating rogues” not spoiling her triumph as she flung her arms into the air victoriously. “You should go and fetch the weapons commander,” she grinned, “can’t have you making the place smell bad.” Her eyes lingered on the back of him as he ambled to the armoury, waiting with a smirk for him to shake his head or snort at her terrible humour. “Get it? Because you’re a rotten egg...”

“I got it Maerwynne” Cullen muttered, hiding his humoured smile behind an unamused groan; he couldn’t let her have all the glory.

Soon the lovers’ frantic liveliness softened into a calm rhythm, their laughter turning to deliberate silence except for the occasional offering of friendly advice about watching for flanks and bracing for shield bashes. The sound of clashing silverite rang out underneath a full moon, the only light other than those dotting the sky being a few scattered lanterns that littered the patch of grass around them.

Eventually, not long before the birds began to sing, the dull thud of weapons and bodies hitting dry grass accompanied a chorus of grunts as they collapsed to the ground. “Makers breath Maerwynne,” Cullen panted, “when did you become so lethal with those?”

The rogue laughed breathlessly, following it up with a few dry coughs into her fist. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Cole’s technique. I’m telling you, he’s a demon with daggers.” Maerwynne’s eyes widened as she realised the weight of her words, spluttering an amendment of her meaning at the quirk of Cullen’s brow. “That’s not what I-, I wasn’t implying-,” she tapped her head back against the dirt, “you know what I meant.”

Cullen joined her in relaxing his tired body against the short blades of grass. “You meant that he’s a demon with daggers, because he _is_.”

“Yes, but I was talking about his skills.” She rolled her head to look at her commander, lacing their fingers together in the process. “Anyway, I happen to know you’ve been spending some quality time together. How does that joke go now? Something about cow horns being different from musical horns,” she shrugged, “Cole insists you tell it better.”

“It only takes a moment to tell a joke,” Cullen stated, “and besides, you trust him.”

“So now you do as well?”

“Not exactly,” Cullen said with a squeeze of her held hand, “but I trust you.” He watched her lips as they parted, watched as the words she’d yet to say danced behind her flitting eyes. She settled for a smile instead, closing the distance between them to place a lingering kiss against his waiting lips before turning once more to face the brightening sky.

They both were silent for some time as they watched the stars fade away against the morning light. “We’ll have to come out earlier next time,” Maerwynne said, breaking the silence. “I’d love to stargaze properly, you know, search for constellations and such.”

Cullen thought back to a time long before, when he was a young boy who’d begged the stars to listen to his prayers. He’d searched among them for the sword of mercy; a constellation, also known as Judex, that Mia had said would bring him closer to his dream come true, to a life filled with honour and duty as a templar. As the years rolled on, and once he wore the armour that never quite fit how he’d thought it would, Cullen had learnt a different meaning for that pattern of stars, one decidedly cruel and callous. Perhaps now, he thought, he could bring back that old meaning, the one his sister had sewn into his heart, to make Maerwynne believe in miracles too. He lifted a finger to caress her cheek before pressing down softly on a few scattered freckles, tracing the shape of a down turned sword.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice soft as though his feather touch was casting an enchantment on her skin and her words might break the spell.

“Remember how this feels,” Cullen said, “it may aid you in remembering the constellation called Judex. It’s supposed to grant you your heart’s greatest desires; if you can find it.”

Maerwynne wondered for a moment what he meant, how drawing lines upon her cheek would help her map out the stars; but then it clicked. "You traced a constellation in my freckles?" She asked tenderly, her own grin growing at Cullen’s answering smirk.

She loved this man, Maker how much she loved this man; loved how he seemed to take every inch of her she considered mundane and turn it into something beautiful, into poetry he’d recite with careful caresses and whispers in the dark. There were a thousand things she longed to say to him, a thousand declarations of her love, but there never seemed to be enough words for all of them. She chuckled instead, snuggling herself closer until she melted into his chest. "I'm not sure that my freckles are quite as beautiful as the stars Cullen."

She felt his breath warm the crown of her head as he huffed a laugh. “No? Well, on that we’ll have to disagree.”

Maerwynne thought about all the times they had been, what seemed, a million miles away from each other. Had they both spent sleepless nights staring at the same dark sky, the same stars that, all the while, reminded Cullen of her? The thought warmed her belly, her cheeks, but most of all her heart. She let her eyes drift to a close, just for a minute, to let herself get lost in the pleasant feelings.

As Skyhold began to wake Cullen looked down to the woman is arms, who’d been unusually quiet for far too long, unsurprised by her steady breaths as she slept through the sunrise. He was tempted to join her in sleep underneath the blanket of the dawn sky, maybe one day he'd be able to, when patrols of his soldiers weren’t threatening to stroll by. Maybe one day they'd fall asleep in their own garden with nothing to wake for but lazy days and lazier kisses. It was a welcome dream, Cullen mused with a smile as he stood with his lover cradled to his chest, perhaps he’d have to start wishing upon the stars once more.


	8. The things you said over the phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first modern au and even though I wrote it about a month ago I'm still nervous about posting it. Oh well, have it anyway :P

* * *

It had all started like one of the books that Cassandra loved to read, the kind that either left you rolling your eyes or smiling like a fool when no one was watching. Maerwynne had been haunting Merrill’s tea room as she usually did on free afternoons that always seemed to bleed into dusk. She sat in her usual spot, the bean bag chair by the window, nursing a steaming mug of Ferelden brew as she watched the world outside in all its glory; from weeping willows to old country cottages and a stone church too decrepit to pray in, though its crumbled walls covered in creeping ivy were perfect for her hobbyist sketches. 

The sound of the small bell chiming from above the door snatched her attention away from the cobbled streets. Her eyes fell on a man, tall and blonde, not the kind of patron she’d grown accustomed to seeing in her little sanctuary. He was dressed in a suit, the same shade as the sky when it promised rain would soon fall, though he wore the jacket draped over a well pressed sleeve of the white shirt he’d tucked into his trousers. He wasn’t married, she noticed, as he passed to make his way to the counter and place an order; not that it mattered to Maerwynne either way. She only managed to hear the faintest mumblings of what the stranger spoke to Merrill, heard only enough to know he had an accent that was a far reach from what she’d imagined would fall from the mouth of a city dweller. She’d expected him to speak with the straight tones of the capital, not the country twang that had her smiling without even realising it. 

Maerwynne’s gaze shifted to the man’s face as he turned around to lean back against the counter, with one had pressed against the gnarled wood while the other tangled in his many curls that shifted through his fingers as he rolled his neck, one way and then back again. He was a handsome man whose face told of tales, each fine line around his honest eyes spoke of past pleasures, or pains, she longed to know which; to laugh at his escapades or soothe his fears. Even the deep scar marring the flesh of his lip was just another marvel for her to find out about, with fingers or kisses or from stories he’d share. Maerwynne fliched as their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, reeling from the shock it sent to the pit her stomach, a spark that snapped her out of the stranger’s spell and had her scolding herself for staring. Perhaps it was her racing heart playing her for a fool, but she would have sworn to the Maker that she felt his eyes upon her, a heated gaze heavy with their scrutiny. 

She dared another look, was relieved to see he’d turned back around to take his scalding drink with a thank you and a return of Merrill’s wishes for a pleasant day. Maerwynne kept watching, wondering what he was waiting for, but then Merrill turned her back and he dropped a five pound note into the hand-painted pot she used for tips. A kind act, one that made him all the more endearing to a woman whose fingers were constantly burned by her curiosity. She yearned to know who this man was, just needed a name that she could moan later to memories of him when nothing but loneliness kept her company. Maerwynne shook the thought from her head and cursed her romantic heart, she cursed Cassandra too for enabling it, what with never ending smutty literatue that all ended with happily ever afters and began with chance meetings like this. She turned back to her drawing with a sigh; it wouldn’t finish itself while she induldged in foolish fantasies.

Maerwynne wasn’t sure how long she’d spent shading thatched roofs and the sunset, but her wrist had been begging her to stop for at least half an hour. Her ears pricked up as a familiar tune began playing on the radio, a love song of sorts; not the kind sung in jest or by broken hearts, the kind that left you lighthearted and hopeful, in love or not. She began to sing along, just a quiet mumble of the words in an attempt to drown out her hand’s aching protest that she leave and go home. “ _I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you. Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_ -”

“ _We should just kiss like real people do_.” Maerwynne lifted her head sharply to regard the stranger, the same time as he realised he’d joined her in song; and with what words in particular he’d decided to join her with. “I’m sorry,” he stammered as he lifted a hand to paw at his neck, “this song is, well, it’s been stuck in my head for weeks.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Maerwynne assured him with a smile, “music’s supposed to be shared.” His look of surprise melted into a smile, soft as silk, and suddenly she didn’t know how to breathe or what to say; the tilt of his lips seemed like a beautiful curse that rendered her senses useless. Maerwynne needed another tea, Fereldan’s certainly seemed to swear by the stuff to ease all manner of ailments. She reached for her empty mug and delved a hand into her bag to rummage for loose change that lingered at the bottom, biting back a curse as her fingers felt nothing but lining; it wasn’t the best day to leave her purse at home.

“Allow me, miss,” the man blurted, stumbling to stand so swiftly that the remnants of his cold black coffee sloshed across the table. “Perhaps- if you don’t mind- you’d allow me to join you? Unless I’m intruding of course, in which case I’ll just- sit back down.” For every anxious flick of his eyes and shuffle of his fidgeting feet Maerwynne’s own nerves seemed to ebb away. 

“Thank you, I’d like that a lot.” For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something else, but then he turned on his heel and headed to the fetch their drinks. 

Maerwynne attempted to sort the mess she’d created while she waited, from screwed up paper to pencil shavings and cake crumbs that somehow missed both her mouth and the plate. Things were clearer by the time her stranger returned, with another dark coffee and a honey tea for her; she’d have to thank Merrill for that one later. “I don’t remember seeing you before, do you come here often?”

The man smirked at her, at impish smile that brightened his amber eyes. “I can’t say I expected to hear that here, of all places. But no, to answer your question; though I may have to start.”

Maerwynne wasn’t certain of what she’d said to make his voice lower to such a rumbling tone, though it seemed she was always saying things that flew three miles over her head. “I just meant that I’d like to pay you back for the tea.”

The man shrugged sturdy shoulders that sat snugly against his shirt, “Consider it a gift, or….”

“Or?”

“Well you could, that is, if you wanted to-,” he sighed and closed his eyes for a stolen moment, “perhaps you could give me your number? That way I can call you when I’m here again.”

“I’d like that,” Maerwynne nodded, hoping her grin wasn’t as goofy as it felt, though judging by his own he didn’t seem to mind too much.

After they were done with proper introductions, pleasantries and small talk, Maerwynne had asked him what a man in a suit straight from upmarket Denerim was doing in a small village tea shop. He’d said he was visiting family after a hard few weeks at work, that he’d just come from the city and that he liked the quiet. Cullen, that was is name, told her with regret that he couldn’t stay long and pointed a finger to the hulking hound that waited outside for him. Maerwynne had admitted she preferred cats, had laughed at his scowl that softened into something else the longer she smiled.

When Cullen left half an hour later it was with her number, scrawled hastily on a patterned napkin and signed with a heart. He walked to the door with one last look back, his hand placing the napkin in his pocket as he did so; not the one on his grey trousers, she noted, but the one on his shirt sewn over his heart. It seemed like a good sign, like a thought out gesture that had Maerwynne hoping he’d call her up for more than the return of his £1.75.

* * *

She was dreaming, wasn’t she? Dreaming of a rainforest in spring and songbirds that serenaded her against the backrop of a waterfall. Maerwynne cracked open an eye, squinting at the bright light of her phone that buzzed on the bed side table. Not a dream then, just her ringtone and a rude awakening from somebody that dared call her in the middle of the night.

“ _What_?” she groaned groggily, not bothering to check who had disturbed her slumber.

“Maerwynne? It’s me, Cullen, your _fiance_.” She didn’t think it was her half-asleep haziness that made Cullen sound like a snickering school boy. 

“I know who you are, what do you want?”

“You,” he answered without missing a beat, “I wanted to see you, but-”

“But you’re too drunk to get here?” 

“Only a little,” Cullen insisted, “Barris and I only had a few drinks each. Rylen’s passed out on the floor and Dorian’s- don’t ask about Dorian.”

Maerwynne almost fell back to sleep as a stretch of silence took over the call. “I take it you had a good night?” She managed to slur when her fiance offered no attempt to carry on their conversation.

“I did.” Another muted moment, one that almost had her hanging up, but then, “Maerwynne?”

“Mhmm?”

“We’re getting married in three days.”

“Mhmm.”

Cullen’s laughter hummed against her ear, a rumbling sound that served to wake her up a little more. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Is that right?” She purred, well, as best she could with a rasping voice stifled by a lenghty yawn.

“I’ve been thinking about our wedding night, and all the things I want to do to you once I can call you my wife.”

Maerwynne heard him russling, couldn’t resist her smirk at the unmistakable sound of a lowering zip. “Such as?” 

“I’m going to work my way up; I wonder if you’ll taste different as Mrs Rutherford? Then I’ll- are you going to be wearing a garter? I think you should, that way I can tear it off with my teeth while I…”

Maerwynne sat up as he stopped suddenly, knowing he wasn’t just trying to tease her; that was always the last thing on his mind when laced with liquor. “Cullen?”

“Did I wake you up?”

She rubbed a hand over her frowning face; this conversation was taking too many turns for her to keep up with. “It’s 3:30, so yes, you-” the phone went dead before she could even finish speaking. Maerwynne stared at the screen, exasperated; only Cullen could take her from half asleep and grumbling to lusting for him in the space of three minutes. A light illuminated the darkness as her phone lit up once more, this time with a text that had her tired eyes squinting in order to read it comfortably. 

_I ddnt mean to wke you, go back to sleepp, I love you Mrs Rutherford x_

Maerwynne threw her phone beside her and flopped against the mattress so she could sink her face into a pillow and deny the sleepy smile that dimpled her cheeks. “One cup of tea and you’re stuck with him for life,” she moaned into the fabric. Though, if she were being honest, she was more than happy that Cullen had called her way back when, not long after he’d left her alone in the tea room, to arrange a date under the pretense of reclaiming his money. He’d shown up two days later at her home with a boquet of sunflowers and two tickets to a private dinner, to be held on a boat moored at his favourite lake. Best of all though, she never did have to pay back that £1.75.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Like real people do" by Hozier.


End file.
